


Her new treasures

by Rogercat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Children of Characters, F/M, Family, Female Maedhros, Fourth Age, Fëanorian Week 2021, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Motherhood, Rebirth, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: Maedhros with her own family in the Fourth Age
Relationships: Maedhros & original child characters, Maedhros/Rog
Kudos: 3





	Her new treasures

**Author's Note:**

> This female Maedhros, her children and being married to Rog comes from the Warg Rider AU

Maedhros knew that most Elves would agree that the Simarils would be counted as the biggest treasures of her family. The three magical gemstones with the light of the two Trees of Valinor, now gone forever. 

“As if they ended up being worth the price for the Oath in the longer run! With five of my brothers dead!”

But now, in her new life after rebirth in the early Fourth Age, her answer would be very different from the one she most likely would have said in the First Age. Maedhros was still more of the Lady of Himring than the Noldorin Princess she had been during the Noontime of Valinor, yet she had managed to find something of a balance between her past selves. 

Somewhat, if she would ever be asked. 

“Ammë!” 

The calling of her older daughter Cúwen from her bedchamber, undoubtedly calling for help with her curly hair again. Not that Maedhros minded, spending time with her children meant a lot in her current life as a married wife and mother. 

“I am coming, just let me finish dressing Lówen first for the day, alright?” 

Her daughters were twenty-five years apart in age, her two sons having eighty years between them and her firstborn already moved out and married as he had come of age only last year, but she did not doubt that they would have a strong sibling bond nonetheless. 

  
  


Well inside the bedchamber, Lówen was happy to explore the minor mountain of various pillows that Maedhros placed around her, while Cúwen got the help she needed. She had fixed most of her hair herself with the help of a wide-toothed comb, but there were some details that sometimes needed a pair of extra hands. 

“A good thing that the Eastern Dwarves have figured out the perfect hair oils and hair care for this kind of hair.”

It was almond oil which Maedhros helped her daughter to spread out evenly in her hair. While the race of Men in the East of Middle-earth had their own recipes on how to use various oils from fruits, herbs and nuts, the Dwarves had managed to adjust the recipes to suit Elven hair. This was especially a blessing for the Sand Clan among the Avari clans, where Rog had been born, because many of them had a noticeable hair type where each strand grew in a tiny, angle-like helix shape, making it appear denser. 

“I am glad that I was blessed with the more manageable hair.” 

Even if Cúwen had inherited the hair of her paternal family, it was impossible to notice her maternal line because her hair color was almost burnt orange which looked lighter against her dark skin colour; Nerdanel had a bright auburn copper on her hair, and Maedhros herself was more red like rust. 

“You should have seen your oldest brother when he was between the current ages of Yuë and Lówen; it was a struggle every morning just to keep that thick hair of his under control.” 

That was why Rûsa was almost never seen with his hair loose. By trapping it in a long tight braid every day and night, he tried to not look like he had just cleaned out his hair from twigs and other things, nearly arriving back home after a few weeks in the woods like Celegorm would do at times. And summer humidity was the worst of all for her older son and daughter. 

“At least two of us inherited the smooth hair from the other side of the family.” 

Yuë and Lówen had been blessed with the straight hair from Fëanor, which naturally made a big contrast. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Because of his asthma that affected his health alongside his premature birth, it was rare for Yuë to do anything strenuous. However, Maedhros had found him being able to mimic the slower movements of the dance dramas which would be performed by the Stiffbeard clan, one of the four Eastern Dwarven clans, as part of their distinct culture. 

“You are doing much better than your brother, for sure.” 

“Thank you, ammë,” her oldest son muttered under his breath, as he tried to free himself from a long cloth ribbon around his legs that she had just used to force him to move faster without risking any harm. An indirect way to ensure that he kept up the speed that so often had saved his life as the Warg Rider once. 

_ Why did you try to make Brother move faster in that way, ammë? _

Of course, she refused to tell her younger son the true reason to why she trained Rûsa personally and in a very different manner from how she normally would treat any young solder-to-be under her command here in Formenos, but Maedhros still had a answer ready: 

“It would look ridiculous if your brother could not control those long limbs he got from me.” 

Judging from his facial expression, Rûsa was trying to not smile over how she explained it to his younger half-brother. But he did not mind, his siblings was better off knowing that he was a reborn former slave from Angband and how that affected his way of thinking or acting at times, yet there was also a unspoken agreement between Maedhros, her parents, siblings, sisters-in-law and Celebrimbor that her three youngest children could never know about Rûsa being the true person behind the mask of the feared Warg Rider of Morgoth.

“Alright, Yuë, sit down so I can fix your braid.”

The white hair on the young albino had come slightly loose during the dance even if Yuë had not danced so wildly, so Rûsa took the chance to once again show himself as a caring brother who looked after his siblings just like Maedhros had once in her own youth. 

“You have come a long way since your first terrified reaction of us adults trying to help you avoid an inflammation in the toes when you got a case of ingrown toenails as a really small Elfling, Rûsa,” Maedhros recalled when he started to help Yuë check his little feet for any signs that could be painful later.

“As far as I knew back then, you intended to make it worse as punishment for something I could have done without realizing!” 

To be honest, Maedhros was surprised that her son had not died earlier during his first life. Even the most simple of inflammations could often hide nasty reasons for its cause and she recalled herself how ingrown nails on her toes and left hand had been the last of her injuries to heal from once she had been saved by Fingon. 

_ Brother was scared of nail scissors as a little Elfling? _

Right, she had to come up with a good cover history if Yuë began to wonder more. 

“Your uncle Curufin is a great smith but he was unusually clumsy with the nail scissor one day when he tried to help me trim the tiny toenails on your brother back when he was an infant and nearly cut off his toe. That memory of pain traumatized Rûsa for a long time and he would run off whatever he saw Curufin hold something in his hand.” 

This answer seemed to work for her younger son. 

_ Oh. Poor baby you, brother. _

“I am not scared of nail scissors now as a adult!” Rûsa protested mostly as a joke, and Maedhros hid a smile. Sometimes it was really sweet to use Curufin as a scapegoat for some of her eldest son's more odd behavior if people asked. A nice little payback for all the times he had acted cocky and tried to challenge her as the heiress of their father or as head of the family in Beleriand. 

  
  


As a warrior herself, Maedhros enjoyed the sight of seeing Rog train with his huge warhammer among her soldiers. A fearsome weapon, clearly designed for killing and cripping any enemies that had the narrow chance of avoiding a deathly hit. 

“I see why you were named “Orc Scourge Maedhros” among the Dwarves because of how feard you became among those pests, beloved.”

Oh? He had watched her movements as well, it seemed. Well, they were married so it was perfectly normal. 

“There is no way I will let my old skills from my time as the Lady of Himring go rusty. Many Elves still do not trust my family and there could come a day when I may need to defend myself from overconfident assaulters who think that as a nis, my share of the family reputation must be _exaggerated_.” 

Some of those fools had learned the hard way that she had only avoided to kill them because she did not want to be viewed as a possible murderer again. And when she had explained her reasons for a Maia from the JHalls who had witnessed the scene, she had gotten a letter from Námo himself that he saw no problem in her teaching ignorant people a lesson about her warrior skills that way, as long as she avoided to accidentally commit kinslaying again because she fell into her battle mind of survival and could she be kind to pass on that message to her family as well?

“Fair point.” 

Perhaps as an attempt to settle her in a different mood, Rog began to make certain movements to prevent him from getting muscle cramps later. Of course, she did not miss the meaning of some of the sights. Her husband was a handsome fellow indeed, and she would love some private time with him later if they just could be alone in the house. Perhaps her parents could babysit her three younger kids overnight, they should know how troublesome it could be with doing something _fun_ _as a couple_ with young Elflings sleeping only a few rooms away. 


End file.
